


Bayou Blues

by Nohrian



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Arthur minimizes his assault, No story spoilers, but if those things upset you pls be careful, but there is implied sexual assault, nothing graphic or detailed tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 11:50:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16575911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nohrian/pseuds/Nohrian
Summary: Arthur meets a strange man in the swamps.





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur wasn't stupid, and he certainly wasn't an amateur. He's robbed enough people that he'd consider himself a professional at this point. A lousy profession, but it helped him and the people he cared for back at camp survive.

So as he explored the swamp and heard the voice of a man calling him over, he thought he had found an easy score. This fool was inviting him, a complete stranger, into his house. He could go in and see if there was anything of value. It was one man so Arthur was pretty confident he could handle this. He probably wouldn't even have to kill the fool if there was anything of worth in there. A few punches and some intimidation usually got him what he wanted.

But, in case things didn't go smoothly, as he slipped off his horse, he stealthily made sure his revolver was loaded. Just in case. 

"I got food inside, come along." The man spoke in an overly polite tone as he eagerly pulled the door open. 

A lonely man probably desperate for company, Arthur assumed as he stepped inside. Or maybe, the man was going to try and rob him. That thought made him rest a hand on his gun as he stepped through the door. 

The shack was pretty plain. Most things inside were old and decrepit, nothing of worth he noticed as he gave the place a few glances. 

Arthur also noticed with a few quick glances, there was no food in sight. That pretty much settled it, Arthur knew this man's intention. The man was going to try and rob him.

"Now you come here."

Hearing those words made Arthur turn, slipping the revolver from its holster, "Wha-"

The moment Arthur turned, his head was met with a blunt object, one he couldn't make out before he fell to his knees as his whole world collapsed into darkness. 

\---

Arthur regained slight consciousness during the encounter. Vision so blurry he couldn't make anything out expect the man above him. He was speaking but the words sounded distorted. The harder he focused, the more he understood. 

"It was quite the tussle, my pet." 

Arthur made those words out clearly. The disturbing weight those words carried made him wish he hadn't.

The man began speaking again, but the words were becoming more distorted again as his world faded into black. 

Arthur fought for consciousness, tried to stay awake so he could get the hell away from this.

His fight was fruitless, however, as he dove back into the darkness. 

\---

With a confused groan, Arthur awoke to the feeling of rain pelting down on his face. He was confused, disoriented and God did his head hurt. 

It wasn't long before he shakily began to push his weary body up from the muddy ground. With vision still blurry, he frantically scanned for any threats. Any animals, people, that fucking man...

"Wha- where..." he murmured. Once he pushed his weary body into a sitting position, he looked around to see that he was thankfully alone. No person or animal in sight, other than his horse that was standing nearby, staring directly at him. 

"Oh my Lord..." Arthur put a hand to his aching forehead as his brain processed the scraps of memories left from the encounter. None of them were good. 

It took a moment, but he stood from the muddy ground. Standing made him realize just how exhausted he truly was. He had no energy left, he was achy and tired. 

Not to mention how completely disturbed he was by those memories. 

As he staggered to his horse, which was an effort in itself, he stopped. 

Maybe, he was just robbed? Maybe all that other shit was just his imagination or a dream, or maybe the guy was just some fucking creepy thief. 

Arthur reached into his satchel, almost disappointed to see almost all of his money was still there. The man stole some, but not all. 

Obviously no ordinary thief, then. 

Arthur tried to push those thoughts into the back of his mind as he climbed on his horse. Once on his horse, he immediately spurred it on, turning to the direction of the closest town, which was Saint Denis. 

Arthur usually couldn't stand the place. But it was dark, pouring rain, he was exhausted and cold and confused and fuck, did he need a bath and a nice bed. 

\---

Hitching his horse outside of the saloon, he offered it a pat and a treat before stepping inside, making his way to the bartender. 

He paid for a room and a bath, immediately heading up the stairs. He was too tired to even acknowledge the ladies trying to gain his attention as he hurried up the stairs.

First stop was the bath. He stepped inside, locking the door and stripped immediately. The water was a tad hot, but his body was cold and he felt the water would help the prickly feeling that lingered on his skin since the whole encounter. 

It took scrubbing his body twice to rid it of the grime and mud acquired from the swamp. It also helped ease that prickly feeling, if only a little. Changing into the spare clothes he brought from the horse, he exited the bath with his muddy clothes in hand. Stepping into his room, he dropped them in a pile next to the door and went straight for the bed. 

Sitting on it with a sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. Strands of wet hair hung in front of his face, small beads of water dripping from them, landing on the floor. 

Exhaustion hung heavy over his body, making his muscles feel as heavy as lead. He could feel the bags under his eyes, which were heavier than usual. 

Even with this bone-deep exhaustion that hung over him, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. 

But he lay down anyways because he was too exhausted to do anything else. Other than reflecting on what happened, of course. His brain replaying the words he actually remembered from that man over and over, on a loop. He remembered the creepy tone he used, he remembered how he called him his fucking _pet_.

God, it was just supposed to be a fucking simple robbery. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur isn't coping well.

Two hours of restless, fitful sleep is what Arthur managed. The exhaustion only ebbed away slightly, if even that. He lay staring at the ceiling for only a few minutes before forcing himself up with a quiet groan. His body screamed for rest, but the thoughts spiraling through his head screamed louder, so sleep wasn't an option.

Besides, he had work to do. It had been about two, three days since he had been back to camp, so he had to go check up on everyone. Make sure enough food had been donated, and throw a couple bucks in the donation box.

With a sigh, he threw the blanket aside and swung his legs off the bed. As he bent down, reaching for his boots, he paused for a moment. The things were caked with dry mud from the swamp.

The stupid swamp.

Feeling his annoyance rise, he snatched one of the boots and shoved his foot inside. As if he wasn't already feeling weird enough, looking at his stupid boots was going to feel weird, too?!

It was over and done with. He just needed to get over it. He didn't even remember most of the encounter. All he had was scraps of memory from moments when he was barely even conscious.

It's stupid to be upset over something he wasn't really even awake for. So, he would just forget about it. Stop thinking about it. Pretend it never happened, he decided as he slipped the other boot on.

Arthur stood from the bed, stretching his achy body for a moment before he began gathering his things. He grabbed his hat from the bedside table and plopped it on his head as he grabbed his dirty clothes from the day before.

Once he had everything he stepped out of his room, closing the door a bit harder than he meant to. He ignored the strange looks he received from the patrons of the saloon as he walked out, ignoring the people around him just like he did before.

\---

After storing his things on his horse and giving it a treat, he climbed up and began his short journey back to camp.

Whenever he was out riding Arthur was always alert. Around here, danger lurked around every corner. It ranged from thieves to wild animals, each pretty dangerous.

But as Arthur rode through the swamps, he couldn't help but notice he was a bit more aware. More alert. He knew why, but he didn't want to think about it anymore so he hurried through the swamps, feeling a little more relaxed when he was away from them.

\---

Returning to camp is when he began to relax, at least somewhat. After hitching his horse and stepping inside the campgrounds, he felt better than he had since the events of yesterday.

Being surrounded by familiar people that he trusted was assuring. It made him feel better, made his thoughts quiet down just a bit.

Everyone was going about their day like normal, like nothing ever happened.

For them, nothing did happen. So maybe being around everyone would help Arthur pretend like nothing happened.

After donating some money, he decided to help with a few chores around camp. Charles had already gone hunting and brought some food back, so for the rest of the day, Arthur could relax at camp. That was something his weary body was definitely thankful for.

\---

Arthur spent the rest of the day around camp as usual. Doing a few chores here and there, making some light conversation, even listening to a plan Dutch had been working on. As the sun began to set, he found himself sitting beside the fire, sketching in his journal.

It was peaceful, sketching to the sound of a crackling campfire. Peace was something that was hard to come by, especially the last few months.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Bill's voice pulled Arthur from the peace of the moment, and he looked over his shoulder to see the man approaching.

"What?" Arthur questioned as he snapped the journal shut, placing it down in his lap.

"I met an interesting feller in the swamp today," Bill began.

"Did you?" Arthur asked, disinterest painting his tone. Nothing in the swamp was interesting.

"Yep. Met an interesting feller. He knew a lot about you," Bill paused for only a moment, then added, with emphasis, "A lot about you."

Arthur stood, turning to the man with a glare. "Shut the hell up and get out of here, Williamson," Arthur growled, shoving the man.

"Whoa, calm down there, Morgan." Bill raised his hands defensively, "Don't get mad at me! I didn't do nothing!"

"Go," Arthur growled again, "Now."

Bill took a couple steps back before turning and walking in the opposite direction.

Arthur glared at his retreating form before storing his journal in his satchel and walking away. He ignored the confused and concerned looks he got from his friends around the camp as he searched for a quiet spot.

So much for having some peace. Bill could be so stupid sometimes, so damn blockheaded. But then again, making light of something like that is absolutely something Bill would do. So Arthur wasn't surprised, but he was very angry.

After walking far enough, he stopped and glared out at the water. It would have been a beautiful view, with the sunset casting a beautiful golden glow over the waves. But right now, he was too angry to appreciate the view. Far too angry.

Arthur had worked all day to try and quiet his thoughts. While he couldn't completely silence them, as he desperately wanted to, doing chores and being around friends helped. Helped keep him from focusing too much on the bad thoughts, from driving himself crazy with them. The distractions the camp provided were soothing.

While he did feel a bit better since coming to camp, he still wasn't okay. It was obvious the others could see that, too. He was asked more than usual if he was alright. Arthur was quick to brush off their concern, claiming he was fine. Just a lack of sleep was his excuse. They seemed to accept it, eventually, but a few of them kept their eye on him. He just worked harder to seem okay in front of them.

But Bill ruined that. A few people were around to hear what he said, and see Arthur's reaction. Surely it simply couldn't be chalked up to being tired anymore. They wouldn't buy that.

So now those feelings were back tenfold. The unsettling feeling, the feeling of violation. But most of all, he felt anger. Anger at himself, that man, at Bill and these ridiculous new feelings.

But now a new feeling was thrown into the mix. Something akin to worry. Probably closer to fear, honestly. It was a fear of everyone questioning him about it. Because they would. They're going to want to know, and Arthur is never going to tell.

How the hell _could_ he tell them?

With all of these thoughts spiraling in his head again, Arthur pretty much accepted he couldn't go back to camp for a while. He couldn't go back to camp feeling this way, or else he'd probably kick Bill's ass. Scratch that, he would _definitely_ kick Bill's ass for this if he went back now. For making these feelings rise back up, stronger than before. For adding a whole heap of worry into the already toxic mix of emotions.

Arthur noticed a lone log laying in the sand, a few feet away from the water. He planted himself on that log, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl. He would just have to wait here until he calmed down.

Which, would probably take a while, he thought to himself, as he glared out at the waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill can be a douche sometimes, can't he? Poor Arthur.
> 
> I really hope I'm doing Arthur justice and keeping him well enough in character. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, the camp they're in right now is Clemen's Point, if you were wondering!

**Author's Note:**

> So, anyone run into that creeper in the swamp? I sure did...


End file.
